


our sweet escape.

by katarama



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Allison Argent, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Awkward Boners, Established Relationship, F/M, Knotting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Scott McCall, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Omega/Omega, Pegging, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 07:52:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5531633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katarama/pseuds/katarama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s a hand on Scott’s arm, making him still.  He can smell the way the scent blends with his own, familiar.  As settling as it is dangerous right now, with his whole body flushed and warm.  He knows the professor is talking, and he can see his mouth moving, but he can’t hear a word that’s coming out of his mouth, his head a rush of chemicals.  He can hear his heart beating, can hear every movement of the alpha next to him.  </p><p>His alpha.  Allison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	our sweet escape.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QuickLikeLight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickLikeLight/gifts).



_Screech_.

 _Screech_.

 _Scr_ -

There’s a hand on Scott’s arm, making him still.  He can smell the way the scent blends with his own, familiar.  As settling as it is dangerous right now, with his whole body flushed and warm.  He knows the professor is talking, and he can see his mouth moving, but he can’t hear a word that’s coming out of his mouth, his head a rush of chemicals.  He can hear his heart beating, can hear every movement of the alpha next to him.  His alpha.  Allison.

The hand moves to his back, rubbing gently, but it isn’t as soothing as Allison thinks it is.  It makes Scott want to sit on her lap, to sit on her knot right there in the back of the classroom.  He’s seen it plenty of times, though he’s never done it himself; senior year of high school was a rush of newly legal kids, of alphas and omegas making out in the bathrooms before heats hit, omegas graciously slipping their hands into each other’s pants to take the edge off, the whole classroom smelling of slick.

Scott isn’t wet yet, but it’s only a matter of time.  This is the last class he’s scheduled for before he’s on heat leave for the rest of the week, and he can’t stop shifting in his seat, his squeaky chair moving with him.  It’s hard for Scott to stay still.  His cock is hard, pressed uncomfortably against the inside of his jeans, and he’s dying to get some sort of friction, some sort of… anything, really.

“You’re almost there,” Allison whispers soothingly into Scott’s ear.  Even her breath feels cool against his flushed skin.  Everything feels tight and hot and uncomfortable, his skin sensitive to the roughness of his shirt and jeans.  There are a few curious eyes on them from people in their row, a few watching them a little too closely.  Scott doesn’t even care that they’re watching, not right now, not when he’s on the verge of his heat, and he _needs_ \-  

“Shhhh,” Allison says.  She brings her hand down to hold Scott’s, and Scott squeezes around it, his grip tight.  “I already texted Stiles to have the jeep ready.  You’re almost through.”  

The words jolt Scott, clearing his head a little, because she can’t be right.  Scott checks the clock on his computer screen and is surprised to see that there are only 15 minutes left in class.  His notebook is totally blank, and he’s glad the university allows omegas to record the class sessions right before heat week, because Allison’s notes are nearly as sparse as his are.  

“Almost there.”  

It still feels like ages, now that he’s counting minutes.  By the time the professor lets them go, his boxers are soaked through in two places, and Allison’s tight grip is his only anchor.

* * *

 

Allison gets him off, once, when the classroom has emptied out, her hand stuffed into his pants.  It makes his dick less painful, but does little to actually take the edge off.  He asks her hopefully if she’s going to fuck him there, because Allison is a good alpha, and Allison takes care of him.

“There’s a class in here,” she says, helping him to his unsteady feet.  His head rushes, and it takes a moment before he’s balanced enough to pack up his backpack and follow her out of the room.

“Wait until the car,” she tells him, leading him past the bathroom.  He wants more than anything to go back, to push through the door, to lock it behind them and to strip his pants off and let Allison knot him up right there.  She could do it, and the only negative consequences would be walking back to the car with Scott’s hole leaking come down his thighs.  His pants are probably already drenched, anyway, and Stiles would give him a jacket to sit on in the jeep.  Everything would be fine.  

“Stiles is waiting,” Allison reminds him, “and the car smells like all three of us,”

It’s that that finally sells him on following her outside, the thought of being surrounded in the enclosed space by not only the scent of his alpha, but also by his omega, too.  Stiles’ scent riles him up almost as much as Allison’s does, when he’s like this, his body recognizing _mate_  more than _alpha_ , when it comes to being sated.  He’s grateful Allison isn’t going to try and make him wait until they get home; in the jeep with both his mates, with his heat settling in, going untouched would be way too much to expect.

The promise of being knotted soothes him some, and the chilled air outside the school clears some of the heat-daze clouding his head.  It makes him shiver, the breeze cooling the sweat from his fevered body.  He regrets taking his hoodie off and stuffing it in his backpack when he was melting in class.  Allison wraps her arm around him and pulls him close, letting him cling while Stiles pulls up in front of the building with the jeep.  He feels so empty it’s like a loss, and his dick is already ready to go again, pressing uncomfortably against the tacky denim.  It’s a steady, twin ache, a desire to be touched and filled before it starts to verge on painful.

“In the back,” Stiles reminds them as soon as Scott yanks the car door open.  “Can’t drive safely when you’re getting fucked next to me.”

“Can you ever drive safely?” Allison teases as she pulls the seat forward for the both of them to slide through.  

“You’d better hope so, because there’s not going to be nearly enough seat belt going on back there.”

Scott fidgets in the middle seat while Allison closes the door and settles in next to him.  As soon as they finish bracing themselves for Stiles screeching his way to a start, she’s sliding her boxer briefs down from under her skirt.  Scott fumbles with the button of his pants, practically ripping it off in his desperation to get his pants off.  He bumps his head against the roof of the car when he goes to get the jeans off his butt, but he barely even registers the quick flash of pain.  He’s surrounded by the scents of Stiles and Allison, of him and Stiles and Allison all blended together.  It smells like home, like safety, and he lets himself fade so the heat can take over.

The second his underwear drops to the ground, he’s lifting Allison’s skirt so he can see her cock.  It’s small, flushed pretty and red and already wet at the tip.  Scott wastes no time in straddling her, clambering up and grasping tightly on the seat of the car to keep his balance while he sinks down on her cock.  Allison makes him go slowly, even though he’s so open he could take her knot already, and even with the slick easing the stretch, it doesn’t feel quick enough.  He feels better, having her inside him at all, but he’s impatient to have her inside him and to move, to work her cock until she’s knotting up inside of him.  He almost loses his balance at a stop sign, pushing himself further down on her cock than he planned.  He moans, and Allison steadies him with her hands.

“Be careful,” Allison says gently, though it isn’t clear whether she’s talking to Scott or Stiles or both.  Scott rests the weight of his body against her, lets her help control his slide down, smooth and easy until he’s settled on her dick.  

“How does she feel?” Stiles asks from the front seat, his brown eyes flitting back and forth between the road and the rearview mirror.

“Amazing,” Scott says.  Allison kisses his neck, and he feels almost drunk with it, with having his alpha pressed along his back, her skin touching his, leaving her scent on him.  Marking him as hers in a way that lets everyone know she wants to keep him.

“You should give him your knot,” Stiles says, his voice strained.  Scott couldn’t agree more, rocking on her lap, trying to find the best possible angle.  It isn’t easy, with the cramped space they have, but Scott makes do.  He bounces on her cock, needy and frustrated, struggling to catch his breath until she soothes him into letting her take over.  She fucks up into him with her hips and holds him still with her hands, the sounds of Scott’s moans muffled as he buries his face into the seat in front of him, the car window next to Allison fogging up from her breath.  Scott’s flushed, from his cheeks down to his cock, from heat and exertation, and the wisps of hair framing his face are soaked, sticking to his forehead.  

When Allison finally jerks to a halt, her hips stuttering and stilling, Scott is so relieved he could cry.  Allison gets a hand around his cock, tugging twice and risking Stiles’ future wrath as Scott comes, splattering the seat in front of him.  

“Sorry,” Scott says in advance, but Allison hushes him, wrapping her body around him as her knot swells.  Scott can feel himself shaking; the first knot of a heat is always overwhelming, the rush of chemicals from his body because it _has what it needs_ , both physically being tied to Allison and emotionally being tied to her.  The calming, soothing voice of Allison is in his ear, telling him how good he is, how well he’s taking her, makes Scott’s eyes water.

They’re stuck waiting in the jeep until her knot goes down, but Stiles keeps the heat and the radio on for them, and he slides into the backseat to kiss Scott, bracketing him in on the other side.  Allison sings cheesy pop lyrics into Scott’s ear while Stiles pushes the front seat all the way up, so there’s just enough space for him to go down to his knees and suck Scott into his mouth for another orgasm or two.

* * *

 

It’s the last day of heat, and the rush of heat that makes everything bearable is finally fading.  On the one hand, it means that Scott is finally on the verge of riding out the feeling of needing to be constantly full.  On the other hand, Scott is sore everywhere, every orgasm feeling like it’s being wrung out of him.  

Allison and Stiles are exhausted, too.  Scott doesn’t know how single alpha and omega pairs have the energy for it; even with toys, it seems like it wouldn’t be enough.  Heat always passes in a blur, a haze of Allison knotting Scott, of Stiles’ cock inside of Scott.  Stiles can’t knot Scott, not like Allison does, but Scott doesn’t know how he would survive heat without him.  Stiles understands what it’s like to be in heat, knows just what Scott needs.  He’s always there with snacks and water, a cool rag.  With a knotting dildo, or with his hands and mouth, when it doesn’t feel like enough, when it can’t tide Scott over.  There are lots of things Stiles doesn’t take seriously.  Heat is not one of them.

Allison’s a puddle of goo on the bed next to Scott after knotting him for what he thinks will probably be the last time of the heat.  She doesn’t have much left in her, and Scott honestly cares more about her getting some rest, at this point.  Scott’s actually alert enough to see how gorgeous she is like this, her hair just recently cut up to her shoulders, her own little act of bravery.  She looks soft and sleepy, and Scott wants to hold her, to thank her.

Not yet, though.  Right now, Stiles is helping him ride out the last remaining dregs of urgency.  The need to come is still there, lingering under Scott’s skin, though he’s no longer sweating through the sheets, the press of the fabric alternatively cool and rough against his skin.  He’s not sure he can actually manage to come again, though, even with the chemicals lingering in his body, driving him towards it.  

Scott’s slick is growing thin, just enough that Stiles still doesn’t have to pull out the lube to fit a finger or two inside of him, running his fingers through the come Allison left inside.  Stiles has Scott’s cock in his mouth, the warm, wet heat both soothing and painful.  Stiles keeps his hands on Scott’s thighs, spreading them wide and holding them still to keep Scott from writhing and fucking up into Stiles’ mouth.  

Scott knows he’s shaking, can hear it in the creaking of the bed springs.  His gut tightens, his head swirling with the feel of Stiles’ tongue pressing against the head of his cock, with the image of Stiles’ mussed hair and pink lips.  He can feel the arousal building, working him up towards the edge, but Scott doesn’t know if he can coax his body into giving him what he actually needs.  Allison reaches over and grabs his hand, squeezes it tight while Scott’s calves tense.  Even that much sends twinges of pain through him.  Everything is so close to too much.

When the orgasm finally washes over him, he has to pull Stiles’ mouth off him, his cock far too sensitive.  Stiles slides up next to Scott to join Allison in holding him close.  It’s still too much, and all of Scott’s nerves feel oversensitive.  He kisses Stiles gently, lacking the energy to do much more than mashing his lips against Stiles’.  Stiles understands, though.  If there’s one thing that’s always a constant in Scott’s life, it’s that Stiles understands.

Scott relaxes into the bed.  He can feel sleep coming on, and he has every hope that he will wake up with his heat having finally ended.  After that, he can finally enjoy the time he has off with his mates, snuggled together for the three recovery days they’re allowed by law.  Three days of Stiles protesting that none of them need to cook, that that’s what takeout is for.  Three days of watching bad television and worse movies; it’s Scott’s turn to pick the movies, and he’s tempted to suggest the third Star Wars prequel, just to see Stiles’ indignant face.  They’ll all have to catch up on their homework, but that’s something they do together on the last night of heat, huddled together in the living room with their textbooks and notes sprawled out on the floor.  There will be time for long, luxurious baths to help their aching muscles, and for sex that isn’t driven purely by biological urges.

He’ll have three days to come back to himself, with Allison and Stiles at his side. 

But he doesn’t have to worry about that now.  For now, he can drift off, the scent of his mates on his hands and his sheets, wrapping around him and lulling him to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr [here](sleepy-skittles.tumblr.com)!


End file.
